A Time For Justice (46 page)

August’s mind raced on. They still have a hold on me, whoever
they are, he thought frantically. If they want me for anything
else, they’ve got me by the balls. If they gave that damned tape to
the press, I’d be finished for good. Whatever happens, I must stop
them being able to get at me again...

‘
FB,’ he said loudly, ‘on my desk, nine tomorrow morning, I
want everything about Hinksman from Day One. I’m going to take a
very personal interest in this investigation and from now on I’ll
be looking over your shoulder. I shall expect daily updates on all
lines of enquiry - understand? I want to know
absolutely everything.’

The motorcycle was abandoned near Garstang where both Hinksman
and the rider transferred to a car. Here there was time for the
remainder of the handcuffs to be snipped from Hinksman’s wrists. He
rubbed them gratefully and the blood flowed back into his
hands.

Thirty minutes after driving sedately through country roads to
Blackburn, the car stopped outside a terraced house in the Revidge
area of the town. The driver handed Hinksman a key and said,
‘That’s where you’ll be lying low until the next stage, whatever
that is. There’s enough food and drink for you for at least a week.
Goodbye and good luck.’

Hinksman said, ‘Thanks. That’s a good firm you work for. How
do I contact you if I ever need you?’

The man laughed. ‘You’ll find a way,’ he said
mysteriously.

‘
Understood,’ said Hinksman.

They shook hands and Hinksman got out. The car pulled away
from the kerb and Hinksman made his way to the front door of the
house without looking back.

Ten minutes later he was joined by Lenny Dakin who had dumped
the Jag and was now driving a legitimate car.

They greeted each other with much effusiveness and
self-congratulation. A brilliant job. Superbly professional. It was
as though they were discussing a Stock Market coup, not a shooting
which had left more than half a dozen cops dead.

‘
I thought you weren’t going to come through,’ Hinksman
admitted, ‘when my lawyer said nothing to me.’

‘
I decided it was best that way. If he got cold feet and
blabbed it would’ve jeopardised the whole thing. Better safe than
sorry.’

They looked at each other then embraced elatedly, slapping
each other’s backs. When they came back to earth, Hinksman asked,
‘What’s next?’

‘
To get you out of the country.’

‘
How do you intend to do that?’

‘
Well, Corelli wants you back in the US as quickly as
possible, but it’ll have to be done at my speed. We have a delivery
due at the weekend, so what I plan to do is use the reverse route
for you. That’ll get you to Eire, and from there it’s relatively
easy to get to the States, maybe via Paris or Amsterdam,
whatever.’

‘
Sounds good,’ Hinksman said approvingly.

‘
So in the meantime, just crash out here. You should be safe
enough if you’re sensible.’

Hinksman’s nod turned smoothly to a shake. ‘I have business to
attend to. A debt to repay.’

‘
Now look.’ Dakin’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve put my neck on the
line for you, so don’t fuck anything up.’

‘
As if I would,’ said Hinksman reprovingly with a grim smile.
‘I’ll be careful and I’ll be back in time. Trust me.’

A hand clamped down on Kovaks’ shoulder, making him jump. He
had been sitting at his desk, staring blankly into space, with the
Corelli surveillance reports in front of him, ever since Damian’s
phone call. He turned round and there was Eamon Ritter accompanied
by Ram Chander.

‘
Hey, day dreamer,’ laughed Ritter. ‘I bumped into Ram in
reception. He said he’d come to see you about Sue’s murder, so I
brought him straight up. Look, I really am sorry about her, Joe.
She was a damned good agent and though I didn’t know her too well,
she always had a pleasant smile for me. She was your partner for a
while, wasn’t she?’

‘
Yeah, she was. And thanks for the sentiment. How’s the
investigation going, Ram?’

‘
To be honest,’ the Indian admitted, ‘we don’t seem to be
getting anywhere and until we apprehend this Damian character, I
don’t think we will. That is why I came to see you, Mr Joe, to see
if you have heard anything more.’

Kovaks looked at Ritter and instantly decided, what the hell,
he’s an agent too.

‘
Yes, I have heard something. Gotta phone call from your chief
suspect not long before you walked in here. Sounds like he wants to
talk to someone.’

Chander’s interest perked up. ‘Did he say where he
was?’

Kovaks shook his head. ‘Said he wanted to talk to someone he
could trust, then I think he panicked and hung up. I’ve been
waiting for him to call back, but he may not. He knows that all
calls are recorded. He sounded scared.’

Chander sighed. ‘OK, Mr Joe, if he does, please let me know
immediately. Just remember, this isn’t a Federal matter, it’s my
case.’

‘
Yeah, no problem,’ said Kovaks.

After Ram Chander had left, Ritter sat down next to
Kovaks.

‘
I didn’t know that Damian was number one suspect,’ he said.
‘I knew they wanted to talk to him, obviously, but do you think he
killed her?’

‘
No fucking chance,’ said Kovaks with feeling. ‘He wouldn’t
even kill a computer virus. Maybe he knows who did it, though.
Maybe he witnessed it.’

‘
He couldn’t have,’ argued Ritter. ‘Wasn’t he on leave, at his
mother’s in Clearwater?’

‘
Apparently he left there and could’ve easily been back at the
time of the killing.’

Ritter drew in a breath. ‘So he could have done
it?’

‘
Or witnessed it.’

‘
The cunt,’ rasped Ritter. ‘Look, if you need any assistance
whatsoever, just let me know, will ya? My workload’s pretty light
at the moment. I’d be happy to help you in any way I
can.’

‘
Thanks, Eamon.’

He died before Henry could get to him. The nurses in the
Casualty Department at Lancaster Royal Infirmary were just
dismantling the medical equipment from around the bed and pulling
drips out of veins which no longer pumped blood. Two of the nurses
had tears in their eyes. A couple of young doctors stood at the end
of the bed, conversing in hushed tones. An older doctor was filling
out a form on a clipboard.

Two uniformed Constables and a Sergeant stood quietly by the
door, all three overawed by the circumstances.

Henry walked to the Staff Only area where a Sister was working
at a desk. He introduced himself and showed his identity. Henry
noticed that she, too, had red rings around her eyes. He couldn’t
decide if it was tiredness or emotion.

‘
The policeman who just died,’ he said, ‘asked to see me. I
wonder if you know what it was about. No one around his bed seems
to.’

‘
I don’t, actually,’ she said. ‘However, he was very lucid up
to the last and asked for a pen and piece of paper. He wrote a
short note on it and gave it to me to give to you. I think he knew
he would die before you got to see him.’ It was then Henry saw that
the redness was emotion. ‘He was in incredible pain,’ she said,
‘but he was very brave and very philosophical. He’s a credit to the
force.’

‘
Thank you,’ said Henry, trying not to be moved. The last
thing he wanted was to be drawn into this. He needed to keep an
emotion-free head. ‘Do you have the note?’

‘
Oh yes, it’s here.’ She pulled a piece of paper out of a
pocket and handed it to Henry. ‘I haven’t read it.’

‘
Thanks.’

He went to the waiting room where he found a spare chair and
sat down. He unfolded the note.

It looked like it had been written by a frail eighty-year-old
with arthritic fingers. But it was legible.

DS Christie,
he read.
He’s going to come for you.

Henry read it over several times before slowly folding it up
and placing it in his jacket pocket.

‘
No,’ Henry said out loud. ‘I’m going to go and get
him.’

Special Agent Eamon Ritter realised that he might have made a
mistake, or possibly two, or maybe even three.

The first one had been failing to ensure that Damian had
actually been in Clearwater and the second was not searching Sue’s
apartment properly. Now there was a distinct possibility that the
little worm had witnessed the whole thing.

And what happens when you assume? he grilled himself mentally.
You make an ‘ass’ of ‘u’ and ‘me’.

Standard FBI ground rules:
don’t
make fucking assumptions.

And now, to compound all that, he’d made a third mistake by
letting it slip to Kovaks that he knew about Damian’s leave to his
mother’s in Clearwater.

Kovaks was very sharp: the chances were that he was probably
meditating on that same disclosure at this very minute. Drastic
measures were required - and these could include the sudden deaths
of another Special Agent and a fingerprint expert.

Something was bugging Joe Kovaks, but he couldn’t put his
finger on it. He filtered through everything that had happened
during the day: the visit to Laura, Tommo’s infantile remarks,
Damian’s phone call, Ram Chander’s appearance.

What the hell was it?

Twenty minutes later he still didn’t have the answer. This is
no good, he thought. I’m getting nowhere fast. He decided to take
the rest of the day off. Give Chrissy a surprise.

He replaced the Corelli surveillance logs into a file and
tucked it under his arm. He would take them home and study them
there with a beer in his hand. Removing any official documents from
the building, unless approved, was strictly against Bureau rules.
But like most of the rules, Kovaks thought they were bullshit and
often flouted them.

On the way home he would call in and see Laura, pep her up and
discuss his idea of where to waste Corelli.

As he stepped into the elevator, the phone on his desk started
to ring. He did not hear it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Kovaks rubbed his temples wearily and stood up. He walked
across to the large picture window of the apartment. From it there
was a fine view of one of the inlets of the intracoastal waterway
which ran up behind Fort Lauderdale. Yachts, motor boats, power
boats, craft of all sizes and descriptions were moored
there.

But Kovaks’ mind was not on the splendid vista. It was
concentrated solely on the violent death - not before time - of
Corelli.

Was this really the right way?

Using Laura, a no-hoper, who had never really done anyone any
harm - could he live with that? Using her, knowing that she would
almost certainly die.

The problem was that he’d known her before she became a drug
user and a prostitute, and he could clearly remember her as a
spirited, pretty and more or less honest girl. Given time, trouble
and patience she could return to her former self.

But there was no time.

She had to do it soon. Corelli had to be wasted. Delay meant
more lives destroyed.

Kovaks had purchased the murder weapon - a two-inch-barrelled
Smith & Wesson model 31, Regulation Police, .32 calibre. It was
just under 7 inches long and weighed 22 oz when empty. Laura needed
to get in close and that meant a pistol or revolver, of a size and
calibre she could hide and handle easily. And it had to be powerful
enough to do the job. It was a wonderful gun to handle, though
Kovaks found it too light for himself.

Laura had taken to the gun well. She knew a lot about them
anyway. She’d spent their last session together practising, walking
up to a lampshade with the empty gun tucked into her waistband,
then drawing and pumping six imaginary shells into Corelli’s
head.

She found it very exciting. She wanted to do it for
real.

‘
You must say nothing,’ Kovaks coached her. ‘You stroll up to
him like it’s a normal Sunday afternoon. Look relaxed. Smile. Pull
the gun out at the last possible moment and shoot the bastard.
Throw it down, turn and run. I’ll be outside in a car waiting for
you.’ This lie almost stuck in his throat. ‘Don’t worry about the
layout of the place yet. We’ll go there for a meal ourselves a
couple of times beforehand and find out where he usually sits. Now
... squeeze the trigger. Yes, like that. Don’t pull it.’

Kovaks didn’t hear Chrissy emerge from the bedroom. She padded
barefoot and silent up to him, wearing a short nightshirt which
only just managed to cover her. She touched his sleeve. He
jumped.

‘
Hi,’ she said. ‘What’re you shaking your head
for?’

‘
Oh nothing, just pondering.’

She slid an arm around his waist. It was as though a shock of
electric current had passed through him. Surprised, but happy, he
draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into
him.